The War of Immensities (34 page)

“They said you
were going to raise all these zombies from the dead.”

“Oh my god, did
they?”

“Yes. Just like
in Stephen King.”

“Nothing like
that, dear. The patients are in a coma, and are expected to regain
consciousness soon. That’s all.”

“Will they be
zombies but?”

“No. They will
be perfectly normal, once they wake up.”

“How do you do
it?”

“I don’t. I
just know, from prior experience of these cases, that it will
probably happen. We actually don’t know much about the condition at
all.”

But the
telephone was being handed to Gavin.

“It looks like
we’re going to make the finals.”

“Oh well
done.”

“They start in
September...”

“How have you
been playing?”

“Won best
afield three times this season and you missed all of them.”

“I know. I’m
sorry.”

“And now you
won’t be here for the finals.”

“Maybe not the
semis, but I’ll be there for the grand final, I promise you.”

“If we make
it.”

“Well, you just
better make it, hadn’t you.”

“Did you see
the volcanoes erupt?”

“No. That
happened before I got here. And they are miles away from where I
am.”

“But they said
you knew it was going to happen.”

“We can predict
it to a limited extent.”

“Then why can’t
you prevent it?”

“Can you
imagine trying to stop a volcano from erupting?”

“But if you
know it’s going to happen, why don’t you move the people away?”

“Because the
prediction isn’t accurate enough. Anyway, that’s nothing to do with
me. I just help the victims afterwards.”

“But why do you
have to do it?”

“Because nobody
knows more about it than I do.”

“Couldn’t you
teach someone else?”

“Look, Gav. I
don’t want to be here. It makes me so sad to be away from you all.
Missing out on all the important things. I have to be here. That’s
how it is.”

“Dad wants to
speak now.”

There was some
sort of brief discussion before Wendell took the receiver. She
could imagine the huffs and gruffs all too easily. But even the bad
moments would have been a joy to her right then.

“So, there,
see. We’re all coping. Who needs you?”

“That isn’t
what I want to hear right now, Wen.”

“Yes, well, I’m
sorry. And you can add to that an extremely large apology for not
understanding in the first place.”

“I thought you
did understand.”

“Not like I do
now. Truth is, we’re all enormously proud of you, now that you’re
famous. It’s a lot easier being able to brag about you instead of
being vague and secretive when people ask where you are.”

“I guess
so.”

He lowered his
voice. “Okay, so the telly’s back on. Now you can tell me about
this plague?”

“This
what?”

“A new plague
threatening all humanity, caused by the ejecta from volcanoes.”

“Is that what
they’re saying?”

“No. That’s
what they’re continually denying.”

“There is no
contagion whatsoever, Wen.”

“But what is
it?”

“When we know
that, I’ll be home for good.”

“And what of
the world blowing up in the middle of next year?”

“Are they
denying that too?”

“We see that
Vietcong prophetess of doom saying she’ll lead the pilgrims to the
land of milk and honey.”

“That’s been on
the news?”

“A right little
Mother Theresa with a Moses complex and a former refugee to boot.
And French. Even Joan of Arc would have been under-qualified for
the job.”

“Jesus, Wen.
How much hype are they giving this?”

“The full
treatment, as far as I can see. Although the importance might be
distorted here. It’s not every day three Kiwi lassies make the
international news.”

“Who’s the
third?”

“The Irish
redhead from Auckland who tells the official lies.”

“Oh God, what’s
she been saying?”

“Don’t panic.
Make sure you know where your towel is.”

The reference
meant nothing to Felicity and she was too tired to bother working
it out. Lorna, she could imagine, was parroting sensible things
word perfect from Thyssen with her easy smile and calm demeanour.
She responded with a huge sigh.

“It’s all
getting out of hand, Wen.”

“I’ll say it
is. You were the sole voice of sanity amid a sea of madness.”

“Well, at least
that matches reality.”

“So when can we
expect you?”

“Oh. I ought to
be clear from here in a couple of weeks. I must get back for
Megan’s birthday. And at least one of those semi-finals, I
guess.”

“The 7th, then
the 14th if they win.”

“14th for
sure.”

“For how
long.”

“Two weeks
maybe. Then on to the next one.”

“You mean they
know where and when it’s going to be?”

Felicity felt
the chill run through her body. Was this how great secrets began to
leak? “If they know they aren’t saying.”

“If they can
predict one, they can predict the rest.”

“It isn’t that
accurate. I think they can work out the when and figure the
longitude, but not the latitude. This one could have occurred
anywhere between the north pole and central Africa. We had no way
of knowing it would be Italy.”

“They said
Mediterranean.”

“I think that
was just a lucky guess. Anyway, they don’t tell me everything.”

“Who is
they?”

She found that
she had to restrain herself from using the word Thyssen.

“The project.
Earthshaker, they call it,” she said, wondering why she needed to
pretend to be vague. Now that she had reached the point of lying to
her family, she knew she had to terminate the conversation. “Look,
I’ve got to go. It was great hearing from you. And the kids. You
don’t know how much I’ve missed you all.”

“Hang in there,
kid. We’re all behind you.”

“Love you.
Bye.”

She laid the
receiver back in the cradle and rested both hands on it for a
moment. The black rain made it seem to be night as it thundered on
the roof. Nausea swept through her and she closed her eyes until it
passed. It was only a small thing but still it mattered. Forced to
chose once more, even in this tiny way, between her family and
Thyssen, she had made the same choice again. But how much longer
could it go on?

As the NATO
forces and civil guards pulled out, Wagner had been frantically
hiring security guards from local Italian companies but they all
proved very unsatisfactory. Those who didn’t abuse their position
by bullying the locals, or extorting money, or just getting drunk
and starting brawls, only failed to do so because they were
sleeping on the job. Or seducing the local maidens. Or running
through the stocks in the vineyards. And crashing his vehicles
everywhere. They visited greater disaster on the region than the
Shastri Effect, Wagner lamented to Brian. He was airing the idea of
employing South African mercenaries.

“Why don’t you
let the problem solve itself?” Brian responded. “Recruit the guards
from within the sleepers and train them to guard themselves. That
way they’ll have an interest.”

It sounded like
a good idea at the time. Wagner got hold of the Red Cross list and
highlighted all people between eighteen and forty as interview
candidates—both male and female—no need to be sexist about
this—which ought to save him an earbashing from Lorna, and
Felicity, and Jami, and just about everybody else. Fabrini was one
of the few useful private men he had engaged, a tall thin man with
a gigantic moustache who always wore a peaked cap. Together they
went off to do the interviews.

No one would
talk to them. When they raised the subject of protection, the
interviewee would bow their heads, cross themselves, murmur and
edge away. The nearly 700 sleepers were largely old people and
children—he only had 118 candidates and he had got halfway through
the list without a single volunteer. The offer of good money to
these desperate starving peasants made no impression. He began to
realise how frustrated Chrissie must have felt about all those
souls she wasn’t saving.

Then, as they
were walking off their frustration, a big black sixties-model
Pontiac pulled up beside them and two very large men in suits got
out.

“You will come
with us,” they said.

“We will go
with them,” Fabrini nervously translated.

They were
driven away from the damaged region, out through orange groves and
to a vast vineyard where the local baronial villa stood atop a
slight rise, all white arches and porticos and ivy hanging from the
balconies. You could tell that Romeos had been climbing up to their
Juliets on that ivy for centuries. They were led to a patio
overlooking the estate this fine sunny day and a spread of
antipasto and good wine awaited them. Two women, mother and
daughter presumably, chatted with Fabrini with warm smiles.

The reason for
their visit presently arrived. Don Severni, tall and elegant, white
hair and beard, white suit, big smile and handshake.

“Please forgive
my tardiness, gentlemen,” he said in perfect English. “I hope my
family have not been too tedious.”

All family
members had faded completely from view.

“Obviously, you
know who I am,” Wagner said.

“Yes, Mr
Wagner. Have you tried the wine. It is one of our finer
vintages.”

“I’m sorry,
signor. I don’t drink.”

Fabrini was
looking around for hiding places.

“A thousand
sorrows are visited upon you, as on us all, but for you there is no
escape.”

“I
meditate.”

Don Severni
smiled graciously. “And work out four hours, every morning, Mr
Wagner. But please, allow some slight concession to my hospitality.
At least nibble on some antipasto.”

Fabrini nodded
furious encouragement. Wagner nibbled.

It went on for
some time. Fabrini tried to admire the vintage and praise the
consumables but the Don dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
Instead, the whole estate was pointed out to Wagner from the
balcony, and the awfulness of the Shastri disaster discussed and
the Don wished to praise the excellent work done by the emergency
services before finally they were ready to get to the subject.

“Yes, Mr
Wagner. I know who you are. I know what you want. What I don’t know
is why?”

“Why what,
exactly?”

“Why you feel
you need protection?”

“I don’t. It is
the pilgrims collectively whom I wish to protect.”

“In these
parts, protection is a luxury few can afford. It is the most
valuable of all commodities and its bestowment jealously
guarded.”

“I know that.
Most generous payments can be made.”

Don Severni
nodded with a sincere pouting expression. “Yes. I know that too.
Project Earthshaker. The most perfect of titles. We all tremble at
the very words. What possible protection could be needed by men who
control the very forces of nature?”

“As I say, the
pilgrims... your own people...”

“Forgive me, Mr
Wagner. I wax lyrical too freely. Tell me, are you a friend of the
friends?”

Fabrini choked
on his cigarette, but Wagner knew the name of the Mafia was never
spoken. “No. I am a complete outsider.”

“You understand
the difficulties that this presents?”

“Which is why I
am speaking to you, signor.”

“From whom do
they need to be protected? It seems to me all threats are behind
them.”

“Soon, the
pilgrims will depart on the first of their pilgrimages. There will
be outsiders who will not understand their peaceful intentions.
There will be soldiers and local authorities and perhaps
interference by foreign powers and maybe even terrorist groups. And
the hounds of the paparazzi must be kept at bay. All manner of
dangers lie before these pilgrims. My job is to protect them.”

“But it is
being misunderstood that you fear most?”

“Exactly. Which
is why I want the protection to come from within the pilgrims
themselves.”

“From
within?”

“I wish to take
those who are willing and able and train them into a security
force. That way, they will be protected at all times,
permanently.”

“I see. And do
you have adequate trainees from within the pilgrims, Mr
Wagner?”

“No, signor. I
have none. But I believe, were you to give the word, such trainees
would be readily forthcoming.”

Don Severni
laughed, took wine and toasted his fields. “Ah, Mr Wagner. You
Earthshaker people speak with such strength. And so you should,
with tectonic power at your command. Yes, I see your difficulty
now. There seems to be a problem of divided loyalties.”

“I think so,
yes.”

“Is there such
a difficulty, Mr Wagner?”

“I don’t think
so. I believe that my pilgrim guardians could, whether they were
friends of the friends or not, be able to carry out the duties I
would want of them without the slightest disloyalty to the
friends.”

“Well put, Mr
Wagner,” the Don smiled. Fabrini needed to sit and mop his sweating
brow. “Two masters but no disloyalty. That would be a most unusual
set of circumstances, were it to happen. Explain to me how it would
work.”

“Because there
are no secrets in Project Earthshaker, signor. There are no words
of disloyalty that a spy or traitor could speak, therefore no spies
nor traitors are possible. Further, the loyalty to Project
Earthshaker is of a very precise and limited kind. Specific time
periods, clear duties, all very predictable in advance. Beyond the
specific duties and timings, no loyalty to the Project is required.
They can go anywhere they want, do anything they want, say anything
they want.”